


Supergirl:  Alternate Ending and Follow Up for Season 4 Episode 8 Bunker Hill

by PsychoCircus



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-31 11:39:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17848742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PsychoCircus/pseuds/PsychoCircus
Summary: This is an alternate ending and follow up fic for Season 4 Episode 8 Bunker Hill.  I wasn't completely satisfied with how it'd been dealt with, and abruptly ended, so I decided to write one that I could more readily relate with.  This is that series of missing scenes and events





	Supergirl:  Alternate Ending and Follow Up for Season 4 Episode 8 Bunker Hill

**Author’s Notes:** Like many of you, I was rather disappointed by the ending of _Supergirl_ Season 04 Episode 08, the episode named “Bunker Hill.” I know it was to set up a major story arc to weave through at least part of the second half of the season, but I also believe they squandered a good alternate angle for a story arc, and the opportunity to establish some interesting things into Supergirl/Kara’s story. I think the end of the episode could have been handled a bit differently, and could still have brought about the dramatic tension they’re going for. At any rate, this is my version of the ending of that episode, and the follow up before Episode 09 would have started. This is a one shot, rather than an ongoing full length story.

**_Supergirl: Alternate Ending and Follow Up for “Bunker Hill”_**

Supergirl looked around the former steel mill, and the lot outside, and breathed a bit easier. Finally, it was over. Agent Liberty, Ben Lockwood, was being arrested for the crimes against aliens and society in general, and she was sure his cult like following would fizzle out. Once their leaders were deposed, arrested, or otherwise taken out of the picture, such followings tended to end themselves in confusion and disillusionment. 

Behind her, he was being taken, in cuffs, to be put into the back of a police car. As expected, the event was a media circus, with print and television reporters alike crowding around the car, firing off questions to the man responsible for all this chaos. “Mr. Lockwood, you claim to be a patriot, yet you’re being arrested. Do you have any comments?” Some variation on this question was the most prevalent. 

As the policeman put his hand on Lockwood’s head, to keep it from being bashed against the edge of the car’s roof, he caught sight of Supergirl standing perhaps twenty feet away. Instantly, a thought sprang to his mind, and he gave one of those twisted looks his face would get before he’d try to spout out a ridiculous, but somehow charismatically twisted diatribe as he said, “Any comments? I don’t know; look at my face. Look what they did to me. Now, I wore that mask to protect me and my family, because there are aliens who don't like to hear what I believe, don't like to hear the truth, so I'm cards up. What about _Supergirl,_ huh? You know who _I_ am. Who is _she?”_

It was like lighting a fire. Immediately, there was an animated buzz around the car from the reporters, even as the police shut the door, and began to pull away. Immediately, they turned and headed in Supergirl’s direction, intent on bombarding her with questions concerning Lockwood’s allegation, most likely. They thundered across the mill yard towards the Girl of Steel, questions already firing from their mouths like mortar shells. 

It was in that moment that Supergirl realized that with a well placed seed of dissension and doubt, Lockwood had just changed everything, and not for the better. _Oh, boy. This is going to get ugly, very ugly, before it gets better, if that’s even possible,_ thought Supergirl as she immediately launched herself into the sky, leaving the shouting reporters behind. The wind rushed past her at incredible speeds as she flew a wide loop to reverse course, to confuse anyone trying to follow her. 

X 

The young Kryptonian had poured on the speed, making it even harder for anyone to follow or track her, and arrived at the towering building that housed the secret DEO installation. As was customary, she flew through the window over the balcony, and into the “brain” of the operation, the operations hub. She thought talking with Alex might help ease some of the tension from her mind and shoulders, so she had gone to the DEO. 

She slowed dramatically and pulled up, hovering for a moment over the main walkway, before softly settling down into a calm, but businesslike stance. Alex was in front of her, flanked by Colonel Haley. The Colonel wasn’t a fan of Supergirl, or of aliens, it turned out, but so far she hadn’t presented a threat or a problem to anyone, which relieved Supergirl to no end. Still, she knew Alex was having a terrible time being pulled between duty and personal feelings where the alien issue was concerned, and this woman only exacerbated it. 

Colonel Haley had been sent by the President to “oversee” the operations of the DEO, which in truth meant she was there to keep Alex in line, and to dictate orders and policy for the organization, which was a thinly veiled move to make Alex the Director in title only, a figurehead with no real power. That was a move in a long list of moves that irked Kara more than most things could irk the normally sunny Kryptonian. She regretted telling President Baker that she was loyal to the country, no matter who ran it, more and more every day. _That may have been far too broad a statement._

As soon as her booted feet touched the floor, she drew herself up into as powerful and square jawed stance as she could, lightly crossing her arms over her chest. She nodded in greeting to the two women, speaking in a firm, businesslike tone, “Colonel Haley, Director Danvers.” She’d made sure to include Alex’s title with the tiniest bit of stress on the Director part, a subtle hint of her feelings. 

Immediately, a third figure stepped out from behind the square column the two women were standing close to, holding a folded newspaper. President Baker smiled wanly at her and said, “Hello, Supergirl.” There was something off about his expression and behavior that set Kara’s hackles tensing up. Whatever he was there for, she knew his presence was neither coincidental nor congenial. 

She kept the same firm stance and tone as she nodded in acknowledgement of the man that now stood before her. Once more, she gave a firm nod in greeting, “President Baker.” That was as neutral a greeting as she could summon at that moment. Her stomach was churning, and she was starting to feel ill, and that wasn’t a feeling she enjoyed. 

Before anything else could be said, the President whipped the paper he was holding up, unfolding it partially, where the headlines could be read. With each word, he shook the paper and gripped it as if he was drowning, and the paper was a life saver. “‘Human rights activist imprisoned.’ _Their_ words, not _mine,”_ he quoted the headline with an underlying emphasis on each word, said slowly and very distinctly. He looked wound tight enough to chew concrete. 

His tone and his not so subtle admonishment of her didn’t go unnoticed. Behind him, Alex frowned and got a hard look in her eyes, along with a set jaw that Kara knew wasn’t going to end well. Meanwhile, her brows rose dramatically, and then furrowed, creasing her forehead slightly as she asked, “‘Human rights?’” She didn’t want to believe he was actually chewing her out for doing her job and doing the right thing, but it sure as hell sounded like he was. 

The President grew a frown of his own, as he folded the paper once more, and jammed it under his arm, then spread his hands out, and replied, “Yeah, a _lot_ of people, a lot of _donors_ are asking how can we tolerate this in a government that is _supposed_ to be for the people.” His tone was growing more condemning with each word, and Kara was neither impressed, nor did she like it. 

_So **that’s** what this is really all about. Polls, donors and votes,_ she thought with more than a little aggravation. She would have said she couldn’t believe it, though the sad truth was she _could_ believe it, all too easily. _How the hell did this guy end up as President Marsdin’s Vice President, anyway? Their policies and values are **nothing** alike._

She kept her thoughts to herself, but she couldn’t keep the disdain and disappointment out of her voice. It was an odd combination of tones as she asked, “Is that meant to imply that aliens _aren’t?”_ Her mood was quickly souring and she didn’t want to be around when it reached the point where her thoughts would overpower her spoken words. 

Baker paused with his mouth open, obviously about to continue his dissertation on this event and the impact it’d have on his continuing administration. The question had not only interrupted him, it’d caught him completely off guard. He blinked for a second and asked a question of his own, “Aren’t what?” 

Supergirl’s expression hardened slightly, and the crease between her brows deepened a little as she answered what she felt should be obvious, more than obvious really, _“People,_ sir.” The longer this conversation drew out, the tighter her own jaw was growing. At this point, in her mind she was _daring_ him to say no, but she was holding it in. 

The sight she was seeing was one of the most bizarre things she had ever seen. Baker’s face was a mixture of exasperation, panic, and fake reassurance all at once. He sighed out in what she felt was an exaggerated sigh, “Of course not. But you are a government employee, like me. And, as such, we need to make sure that we are serving _all_ the people of this country, not just the ones we agree with. For reasons of national security, from now on, the DEO will require full transparency from its assets. We need to know your secret identity, Supergirl.” 

There it was. This was the entire point of this ridiculous glad handing song and dance. Before she got a chance to respond, Alex had shaken off Haley’s hand in its attempted restraint, and came around to stand beside the President, and gave him a very serious look as she spoke quietly but firmly, _“No._ We keep her off the books for a reason. She _can’t_ tell you that, sir.” 

Though he’d been angry for some time, his face was finally starting to slip and show it. Apparently, he’d been smart enough to know that attacking Supergirl, even verbally, was not the right play to make. He leveled his gaze at Alex with a withering stare that Alex neither shrank from nor dropped, and demanded, “And why _not?_ Lockwood just shined a huge spotlight on the fact that you are withholding who you really are. Now, keeping that secret inflames things. It gives the public more reasons to distrust you and my government.” 

It was becoming more and more apparent to everyone within earshot that this was a witch hunt, at best. There were so many retorts Kara wanted to make at that moment, but she was biting her tongue almost literally. She crossed her arms over her chest again, this time presenting a stronger image as she replied, “If I did that, sir, everyone I know, everyone I love would be at risk.” 

The exasperation was starting to become more and more evident on Baker’s face as he was barely keeping himself from yelling and growling at Supergirl, “My family is with the Secret Service as we speak. You think they're not in danger? No one should be above the rest of us. We need to put country first.” 

A cold realization clicked in Kara’s mind and heart at that moment, and if she was being honest with herself, it disgusted her. She shook her head slowly and met Baker, eye to eye, “I’m sorry, sir. I can’t give you what you want.” 

Baker made a show out of sighing, though part of it was real, and he pulled out his public acting skills to make it seem as if he was trying to be the good guy, but nobody in the room was buying it, least of all Kara. “Then I thank you for your service, but you’re dismissed, effective _immediately,”_ he said with a supposedly heavy heart. “I hope you’ll comply. The United States does _not_ want a war with Supergirl.” 

Kara’s eyes narrowed and she felt her jaw tighten even more, there was real anger starting to swell in her, but also sadness. Sadness for the people of the country and the times that were coming, times that could and probably would rip them apart. Her voice was as cold as her gaze as she turned around and replied over her shoulder, “Then I trust _you_ won’t _start_ one.” 

Without the courtesy of taking her leave, or waiting for dismissal, she turned back and began walking towards the balcony and window with a determined stride. She wanted, no, she _needed_ to punch something. Even Supergirl had limits, and she’d just reached the line on those limits. 

Alex knew what was happening, both from her perspective and from Kara’s. She was furious at this turn of events, but showing her anger would only make things worse. It certainly wouldn’t help Kara. She hurried around her sister to touch her on the shoulder and spoke barely above a whisper. Her face was worried as she implored, “Okay, just give me some time. They’ll come around.” As soon as she said it, she could tell from Kara’s expression that she didn’t believe that, and more, she knew she herself didn’t believe it either. 

Kara’s expression was still angry, but also sad, and sympathetic for Alex’s plight. She gave Alex’s shoulder a gentle squeeze and she nodded a slow single nod. “Protect this place and everything it stands for.” She then turned and flew out of the building in a red and blue blur without another word. 

X 

“What are you going to do?” asked James Olsen as they sat together in James’ office at CatCo. It’d barely been an hour before that Kara had landed on his office balcony angrier than he could ever remember seeing her, even though it was a quiet anger. When she told him why she was angry, he could understand it without question, and was genuinely worried about his friend. 

Kara had changed into her regular clothes and sat on one of the couches in the office, sinking back into the cushions. With her middle fingertip, she pushed the glasses that had slid down her nose back up to their normal position. She sighed heavily, “I’ve been thinking about it. If you were to run a fast breaking story tonight, would it give reporters from all over the country time to get here by tomorrow afternoon?” 

James considered the question a moment as he sipped from his cup, and sat down on the arm of the couch across from Kara, his expression thoughtful. “I suppose it would, most of the major outlets anyway. Why do you ask? What sort of story do you want me to run?” 

Kara took a deep breath and released it slowly. Her eyes came up to meet his and the crease between her brows returned as she explained, “Put out the story that Supergirl wants to hold a press meeting, and respond to the comments and accusations that Ben Lockwood gave when he was arrested. She wants to clear the air and make some things clear, so that the public can have _all_ the facts and make an informed decision.” 

James frowned again, and tilted his head lightly. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” he asked, not sure what to make of this decision. “What if it backfires, and makes things worse?” He hated to, but he had to play Devil’s Advocate. 

“It _can’t_ make things any worse, James. I’ve been pretty much fired from the DEO, been given an ultimatum, and I’m pretty sure I was somewhat subtly threatened _and_ guilt tripped to reveal who I am,” she said morosely, standing and starting to pace. “I can’t see things getting much worse than that.” 

“Okay, then,” he replied slowly, and was already picking up the phone. “I’ll put it out in a special edition of the _Tribune_ and on the TV stations that Supergirl is requesting a public press meeting tomorrow afternoon.” 

“Thanks, James.” 

X 

Supergirl took a deep breath and released it slowly as she glanced out at the enormous crowd of reporters and citizens alike that had come to the park to attend the press meeting. There were a lot more of them than she realized there would be. Of course, there were also some people waving protest signs, most likely Children of Liberty or at least sympathizers, probably intending to cause trouble. She hoped that it wouldn’t come to that, but it would be just the sort of stunt they’d pull to further poison the people and the government against her. 

A voice shook her out of her reverie as she paced in the wings. “Supergirl, it’s time,” said the voice with a firm but somewhat gentle tone. 

“Thank you,” she responded automatically, barely paying attention to anything beyond her thoughts and breathing. She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, then turned around with the intent to head up the stairs, leading to the raised platform beyond, but froze dead in her tracks as she caught sight of the person who had spoken to her. 

_”Miss Grant!?!”_ she exclaimed incredulously as she struggled to regain her composure. Faster than thought, she’d rushed across the distance and embraced her former boss as tightly as she dared. “What are you doing here? Why are you…it doesn’t matter. You’re here!” Her face had undergone a dramatic change. 

Cat Grant, former CEO and owner of CatCo Worldwide Media, embraced Supergirl in return, and took her shoulders in hand when the Kryptonian released her. “Yes, yes, it’s me, it’s really me, I’m here,” she answered, the tone of her voice that same deceptively bored tone that she often used, but Kara had learned better over the years. “You didn’t _really_ think I was going to let them roast my girl, did you?” 

Kara shook her head in disbelief, still staring at the older woman. “But…but you’re the Press Secretary for the President,” she stammered, trying to find her voice once more. “Shouldn’t you be in Washington? Or at least somewhere stomping out fires that this whole thing has caused for the President?” 

“I’m the Press Secretary, yes,” Cat answered, the tip of the earpiece of her glasses resting on her bottom lip thoughtfully. “I liked it a lot better when Olivia was still in the Oval Office. Things were being handled intelligently and with common sense, instead of Blowhard Baker’s obsession with the polls say and what his popularity rating is. The only reason he’s going along with these idiots is he thinks it’ll get him reelected into his own term. The only thing he’s concerned with is being an ass, and letting those that can provide him with money and weasel his popularity dictate his policies.” 

“But you work for him,” Kara replied, still not able to believe her eyes. “You’re part of his administration. Should you be talking about him like that?” 

“Oh, _please,_ Supergirl,” Cat rolled her eyes and waved a hand dismissively as she shook her head. “What’s he going to do, imprison me for telling someone he’s a moron? He hasn’t rescinded the First Amendment yet. It’s this little thing called Free Speech. I’m not saying anything I haven’t said to his face…albeit it those remarks were more biting and craftily constructed.” She shrugged, and looked completely unconcerned. “It’s not like me telling anyone that he’s an idiot would exactly be headline news.” 

Supergirl shook her head and smiled, and the light shone in her eyes for the first time in a day’s time, which for her was an eternity. “I’ve missed you so much, Miss Grant. I’ve missed being inspired by your uncompromising way of cutting through the junk to the heart of the matter.” 

Cat smiled lightly and patted Supergirl’s shoulder, then waved her towards the platform, where they were waiting on her. “I’ve missed being able to give you whatever little nudge or push I could,” she said, hiding the glistening of her eyes from the light. “Now, get out there and tell those people, show those people, that the bullshit stops here.” 

Supergirl nodded, and drew in a deep breath, then walked out onto the platform. Immediately, there was a burst of noise. Some of it was cheering her, some of it was booing, and there were other sounds, but she didn’t flinch. It only strengthened her resolve. 

Behind her, Cat leaned against the doorframe and smiled lightly as she crossed her arms, watching the young Kryptonian. “Go give them hell, Kara,” she whispered to herself. “Ram Baker’s stupidity up his ass, where it belongs.” 

Supergirl made her way to the podium that had been placed there for her to speak from, and put her hands lightly on its sides. Her eyes swept out over the crowd, which was surprisingly bigger than what she expected, and she cleared her throat. 

“Thank you for coming, or tuning in, whichever applies to you,” she said, letting her eyes roam the crowd a moment. “I wish to say a few things, and I ask that you hold any questions or comments until after I’ve finished. That way I can more readily answer them, and there can be fewer lapses both in my expression, and in your hearing and understanding, and not interrupt your train of thought, or mine.” She waited a few seconds, and the plaza calmed down to silence. 

“People of National City, the United States, and the world,” she began, as she felt her nerves getting to her, making her jittery. “I’ve asked for the honor and privilege to come before you today, and set the record straight, so there are no misunderstandings, and so that we can all find it within ourselves to listen to our better angels, and not give in to the fear and hate that the so called ‘Children of Liberty,’ and those like them, are spreading in an attempt to undermine the very principles and values they claim to stand for.” 

Her words rang off the buildings and such around her, filling the relative silence the crowd maintained so far. _Maybe this will go better than I thought,_ she heard herself say in her mind. Finally, she pushed onward, “Liberty means freedom. It means being able to live as you choose, to live where you choose, to be safe from threat and harm, foreign and domestic. Freedom is what this nation is supposed to embody. Liberty is the voice of that freedom.” 

Again, she paused, and tried to gauge the crowd’s reactions to what she was saying, to her. Everything seemed quiet and normal, so she continued, “These Children of Liberty, as they call themselves, are promoting anything _but_ freedom. They sow discontent, fear, hate, so many things that go against the very idea and definition of liberty. They create the very things that they supposedly are fighting, and keep you all captive in a prison of your own design, in your own mind. The fear and hatred they engender keep you captive, a prisoner of your own thoughts and fears. They poison the minds and hearts of whoever they think they can reach, until that person becomes nothing but a festering cauldron of fear and hate. 

“Fear and hatred of what, though? Aliens. Those that live here that are from places far, far away. Those that are from planets well beyond the light of the sun. Why? Is it because some of us look different than you do, or have different customs than what you may have here? Is it because many of us have abilities that are different than the average abilities or talents that humans have?” 

She paused again, and so far a riot hadn’t broken out or anything, so maybe that meant they were listening. She hoped so, as she gathered herself and pressed on, “Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and the Civil Rights Movement was about gaining equality for those of this country who were not the white, privileged, and dominant society here. It was a movement devoted to peaceful coexistence between _all_ peoples, _regardless_ of creed, color, background, religion, or place of origin. These people were the aliens of that time. What were the chief enemies they were fighting? Fear and hate, the same sort of fear and hate that is being instilled in the citizens of Earth by groups such as the Children of Liberty right now. Riots, fires, beatings, killings, senseless violence and wanton destruction and atrocities far too numerous, and often far too hideous, to name were what Dr. King and his followers were dealing with and combating. 

“During World War II, the Chancellor of Germany, Adolph Hitler, used his power as a leader to promote an agenda of fear and hate against a particular group. His aliens were the Jewish people. These were people he waged a war for genocide against, and if we’re being honest, nearly won. What were their crimes? Their crimes were the same as the crimes of people of color, and of the aliens the hatred, violence and fear are being used against today. 

“The violence and hatred heaped upon those that are different inside, the gays, lesbians, transgendered, and otherwise different self identification or sexual orientation is the same. They are another group of ‘aliens’ that society rails against today. What are their crimes? They simply see themselves and feel inside in ways that are different than the accepted norm. 

“The people in this country are so proud of ‘belonging’ here, this being ‘their’ home, and they try to drive out the people from other worlds that they fear and hate, as if this had always and would always be their home, and their home alone. What would your ancestors have done if the Native Americans had the ability, and the strength of hatred and fear, to treat them exactly as you’re treating those like me? Instead, your ancestors drove the people whose home this actually was into tiny pockets of inhospitable land, decimated their numbers, and stole everything from them. Sound familiar? It’s exactly what you claim to be afraid of those from other worlds would do to you.” 

Amazingly, there was no outbreak of rioting and violence so far, no chaos to destroy the orderly conversation, so Supergirl pressed onward, “These Children of Liberty, the agents of Cadmus, and other similar entities claim that their fear and hatred are tools against invasion. Hitler invaded Europe. Alexander the Great and the Caesars invaded most places in the world at one point. Genghis Khan, Kublai Khan, Babylonians, Persians, Germanics, so many individuals and peoples led so many invasions. What did all these people have in common? They were humans. Did any of those they invaded ever decide to wipe out all of humanity, through fear and hatred, because they were humans? No, of course not. 

“Humans commit crimes against humans, murder other humans, take jobs from other humans, and threaten other humans’ ways of life and belief and so on every single day. Yet, no one has decided to eradicate the ‘scum’ that do so. No one has decided to stomp out that particular variety of ‘roach.’ Crime is crime, and wrong is wrong, it doesn’t matter who’s doing it. Murder is still murder, theft is still theft, rape is still rape, whether it’s a human or an alien that does it. 

“Does it somehow make it okay, or forgivable, if a human murders your brother or sister, father or mother, but not if an alien wounded one by accident? Do some sort of separate rules exist for crimes perpetrated by humans, and the exact same crimes perpetrated by aliens? What about the normal, everyday things that a human does that’s perfectly acceptable, but if an alien does it, it’s the act of a terrible monster to be put down? 

“Like, for example, if an alien is a more qualified job applicant than a human is, so the alien gets the job. Has the alien committed some sort of crime? It shouldn’t matter who you are, what you are, where you come from, or anything else, like it says in the Non Discrimination Act.” 

There was a great deal of murmuring that had been soft, but was gaining in volume. Supergirl prepared herself for an onslaught, she was sure one was coming, even if it was a little slow. She was genuinely surprised she wasn’t already dealing with a street war. A voice called out from the crowd in a shout, “The history and philosophy lessons are really nice and all, but is there an actual _point_ to this circus?” The sarcastic question was supported by a disturbing amount of support in the crowd. 

Supergirl took a deep breath and held it for a couple of beats, and let it out slowly. “You’re right,” she said, meeting eyes with as many people as she could during her pause. “I actually said more about that than I had actually intended to. So, let’s move on to the actual reason for my asking for this meeting.” 

There was an almost tangible fist of tension squeezing the entire assembly, it felt like. The Kryptonian took a sip of water from the glass on the podium, and brushed her hair back from her face. “Ben Lockwood, as I’m sure you all know, said that we knew who he was, but who am I? He’s suggesting that I attempt to blend in with all of you when I’m not out flying around, saving people or helping people, apparently, though he just happens to leave those facts out. 

“This suggestion has been a lightning rod for many comments, theories, and outbursts. This has even progressed to the point to where the President of the United States has _demanded_ that I reveal my ‘secret identity’ to him and his administration, for ‘reasons of national security.’ That me keeping ‘my secret’ inflames things and makes you, the people, mistrust both me and _‘his_ government.’ As I understood democracy, the government is _the people’s_ government. And honestly, his concern over people asking questions about how the government could tolerate this wasn’t about the worries of the American people, or anything else even remotely so altruistic.” She had been doing the air quotes gesture when saying certain words, and she hoped it got her point across. She was trying to keep her disappointment and irritation out of her words, but it didn’t seem like she was being very successful. 

After a moment’s pause, she collected herself and proceeded, “It’s true that if you casually look at me, I look like any other human. Our species share many biological similarities, but also have many biological differences. But how logical is it to assume that I have some sort of secret identity that I walk around in, trying to blend into human society at large? Let’s explore that a moment. 

“First, I wear no mask. I’ve never worn a mask. My face is not covered and has never been covered. I think someone trying to hide their identity so they could blend into human society wouldn’t be so naïve as to believe that they could walk around, with their face exposed, and not be recognized. I’m sure some of you will mention a wondrous invention called an image inducer, which can change one’s appearance, even a radically different appearance. I’ve been around a lot longer than L Corp’s patented image inducers have been on the market. I’ve been punched, kicked, blown up, and pretty much everything else, and my features have never so much as flickered. 

“Then, of course, there’s the fact that I’m Kryptonian. I think most of you are aware of what it means when a Kryptonian has been on Earth for any length of time. If I tried to blend in with some sort of disguise or something, I’d be constantly ripping doors off hinges, putting my hand through walls, floating when I so much as walk with a spring in my step, and send anything I bumped into accidentally, like a car or a bus, flying down the street. This doesn’t even begin to consider that I’d completely pulverize someone’s hand if I shook it, or shatter every bone in a person’s body if I laughed and slapped them on the back.” There was a very faint sound of a few of the assembled people chuckling amongst themselves at her remarks. That made her feel a little better, at least. 

Supergirl waited a moment, trying to gauge the mood of the crowd. She hadn’t seemed to have lost them yet, so she continued again, “Yes, it’s true, I can take _extreme_ care, and interact normally with people and things for a very short time, but the amount of concentration and effort that takes is _enormous._ It’d be like one of you trying to grasp a butterfly’s wings without destroying it, or irreparably damaging it. Even I can’t keep up that degree of effort for that long. So, with all that in mind, I think it’s safe to say that my trying to disguise myself and blend into your society would be insane at best.” 

There was more murmuring, louder this time, as she took another breather. The calmer things seemed to be, the easier she was breathing. Even the sarcastic heckler hadn’t said anything for a while, so that was a good sign. With a surge of hope, she went on, “Then, of course, there’s the thing about my name. Despite what some seem to believe, there is information that’s personal, and most people don’t just freely toss out personal information. When I first showed up, I was given the name Supergirl, so that’s what I go by and answer to. I’m an alien, so my name is alien. Some alien names are so complex, either in makeup or tonal qualities, that they aren’t even _capable_ of being pronounced by a human voice box. Then there’s the matter of pronunciation. Chinese has five distinct tones, two of which most non Chinese can’t even tell the difference in. Some alien languages, and as a result some alien names, are so complex you’d never be able to say it. 

“Even if my actual name was simple, it’s personal. In some cultures, even on Earth, names have great significance, and it’s not something that is just thrown out there and given lightly. Besides, you don’t just waltz up to someone and demand personal information, nor do you spill it out there when you introduce yourself. You don’t go up to someone and say, ‘Hi, I’m Sue, Social Security Number 123 45 6789.’ 

“Then there’s this whole argument that I’m ‘lying’ to you if I don’t tell you who I am. How, exactly, am I lying? Everyone knows that if you’re an American citizen, you have a Social Security Number, but as I said, you don’t introduce yourself and recite it. So is it lying if you know someone has a Social Security Number but doesn’t rattle it off automatically? People have secrets, everyone has secrets. They don’t have to be huge or important secrets, they’re just secrets. A secret is not a lie, it’s just something that you don’t want anyone to know, it’s not necessary for anyone to know, and that you keep for yourself, or whoever you choose to tell.” 

She looked out at the assembled crowd again, and let her eyes wander to every face she could see. Glancing at the clock, she realized just how long she’d been talking, and she was expecting to get summoned to the White House, or wherever the President was, and be blasted for this announcement, but she wasn’t breaking any laws, so there was nothing he could do except not like it. 

“I’m sorry to have taken up so much of your time,” she apologized, looking rather sheepish. “But I think I’ve made my thoughts on the hate and fear pretty clear, and I think it should be quite evident that I have no identity that’s being kept secret. It simply makes no sense, given the circumstances. In conclusion, I’ll always help anyone that needs my help, and always be there as much as is possible for any Kryptonian. I will continue to safeguard the people that I’ve come to think of as my own. It was said that the country didn’t want to have a war with me, and they’re right, they don’t. The citizens of this country are as safe with me as they always have been, I have no ill will or animosity towards them, towards _you,_ , and I’m certainly not about to start a war. But if someone _else_ decides to start one, you can be absolutely sure I’ll _finish_ that war. Thank you for your time.” 

With that, she gave a light smile and wave to the crowd, and lifted off into the sky, flying away rapidly. She knew that the press meeting could very possibly, and very likely, start more trouble than it stopped, but by the same token, she had the same right to express herself as the President and others did to express themselves. _And if they decide that privilege doesn’t extend to me because I’m an alien, then they’ll just have to deal with the disappointment of it having happened anyway. I’m a free being with a free and independent mind. If they want to arrest me for speaking my mind, then this country is already doomed and there’s no way I can save it. You can’t save someone that simply doesn’t want to be saved, and instead chooses to drown in their own ignorance._

Kara made a quick stop at a corner store to pick up ice cream, and then flew home, called Alex to invite her over, and plopped on her couch, eating mint chocolate chip. She wasn’t sure if she’d just made things better or worse, but she had to say _something._ to take the wind out of Lockwood’s sails. She just hoped she hadn’t let her feelings and her aggravation with the President cause her to make a bad decision. Sometimes, there are just some things you need to get off your chest.


End file.
